


Matrimony

by Stormvoël (BushRat8)



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Jumping the Broom, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 14:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17726831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BushRat8/pseuds/Stormvo%C3%ABl
Summary: An addendum toThe Fate of His Bloodline, this is a peek at Barbossa's wedding day.  C'mon, you know you want to know what happened  ;-)[reminder:  this is an Alternate Timeline]





	Matrimony

**Author's Note:**

> Sophie has never and will never go aboard a ship, as she's probably more superstitious than the men are about what bad luck she may bring.
> 
> Banns were called on three Sundays in a row to announce an intended marriage and to give anyone a chance to object. Though no longer required, they are still sometimes called today.
> 
> And "innocence gown" was an 18th-century name for a maternity dress. Obviously, the wearer wasn't _that_ innocent!
> 
> Cotton, at this time, was considered a much finer fabric than linen. A man's everyday shirt would be fashioned of linen; for a special occasion, and if he could afford it, crisp, tightly-woven cotton would be his choice.
> 
> What Barbossa calls a "sea basket" is the large market basket full of food and sundries like castile soap, soothing oils and healing salve, beeswax, and a bundle of soft linen chamber pot squares that Sophie sends with him whenever he leaves.

 

 

 

-oOo-

 

 

 

 

"No!"  says Sophie crossly.  "I'll never set foot in that damned church;  not even for this!"  
  
Barbossa looks sideways at Cassie, who doesn't appear surprised.  "Dove, 'less ye want t' come aboard some other cap'n's ship an' have him say th' words — an' I know ye're afeared t' do that — I'm not seein' another way."  
  
"Well,"  Cassie puts in.  "There might be."  
  
"Oh?  An' what are ye knowin' that ye hain't told?"  
  
His daughter glides up alongside Sophie and takes her hand.  "Mum, it isn't the only church around here;  you just don't get out and about enough to know about the other one."  
  
"Where have you been wandering that you do and I don't?"  Sophie asks her.  
  
"Oh, Mum, stop it;  it's nowhere terrible."  Cassie kisses her cheek, then returns to Barbossa's side.  "There's a little chapel down the beach at the edge of town.  The priest isn't an arse like this one, and everyone's welcome.  I'm sure he'd be happy to preside."  
  
  
  
  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
  
  
  
  
"I don't often get requests for marriages,"  the priest says with a smile.  
  
Barbossa grasps Sophie's hand and lifts it to his lips.  "Well, ye be gettin' one now, parson.  We been t'gether through hell, high water, an' three an' a half children, so's I'd be much obliged if ye'd join us proper afore this one comes along t' make it four."  He eyes Cassie and Mattie.  "These two been livin' wi' bein' called bastards for too long, I don't want th' third knowin' he were e'er called one, an'…"  He puts his hand on Sophie's swollen midsection.  "I don't want th' newest e'er t' be one."  Barbossa feels her fingers drift over and between his, the sensation pulling on his heartstrings.  "'Sides, she's deservin' of bein' called me wife 'stead of th' rude names she must put up with."  
  
"You needn't convince me,"  the priest tells him.  "I'd be happy to perform the ceremony whenever you want."  
  
"Need ye call th' banns for weeks on end?"  
  
The other man shrugs and shakes his head.  "Not really.  This isn't a fancy church like the one in town, it's not strictly required, and I've never seen the point if you're quite sure there's no one to object.  But I'll call them if you like."  
  
Barbossa's about to tell him not to bother when Sophie speaks up.  " _I'd_ like it.  I want to do this properly.  I want…"  She turns pink and tightens her grip on his hand.  "Please, Hector.  It's only three weeks, and I'd like some time to feel like your… like your intended."  
  
He says nothing, but the look in his eyes shows a breaking heart;  broken because he knows — has always known — how deeply Sophie loves him;  has no wish to deny how much she's given him over the years, and how little she's asking in wanting to be his wife.  "An' so ye shall, m' darlin',"  he says tenderly.  "If 'tis th' banns ye wish in order that all be done t' yer satisfaction, then they shall be called."  
  
"And it'll give me time to help make her something pretty to wear,"  Cassie puts in.  "You'll have the finest, most beautiful bride in all the islands, Papa."  
  
Barbossa grins.  "I already do."

 

 

-oOo-  
-oOo-  
  
  
  
  
His daughter having pointed out the most appropriate ones, Barbossa goes to pick flowers for Sophie to carry, cutting them carefully with his dagger and placing them in the basket over his arm.  "Are these fine enough?"  he anxiously asks Cassie, showing her a large collection of long-stemmed blooms in white, yellow, pink, and purple.  
  
"They're lovely.  I have ribbons to tie them together, so while I'm doing that, you go put your finery on."  
  
Barbossa has had a special suit of clothes tailored for this occasion:  a fine brown coat trimmed with swirling braid and ornate gold buttons, golden-brown woolen breeches, a crisp cotton shirt with double-layered lace cuffs, white silk stockings, a flame-colored waistcoat buttoned in gold, and a scarlet sash.  His baldric and belt are new, as well as his boots, all of them well-oiled brown leather buckled with gold.  His hair will be bound in red to match the sash, and even his hat is brand new:  enormously round and made to tilt, just like the old moth-eaten one, with fluffy plumes very nearly the color of his coat.  He dresses by himself in one of the lodging rooms in order that he might give Sophie some privacy to don her wedding gown, put up her hair, and preen a bit.  
  
Cassie is the first to see him when he comes out into the corridor, his scarf in his hand.  "Oh, Papa!"  she breathes.  "You look so handsome!"  
  
Barbossa holds out the bandana.  "Since yer Mum bain't here t' do it, will ye bind me hair, then?"  
  
"Of course!  Of course."  
  
"Come an' tie it in front of th' mirror, so's I can see that I be properly done up."  He's not plaited his auburn hair today, but let it down loose, and it's beautiful as it drapes over his shoulders and down his back.  "Think yer Mum'll like it?"  
  
"She'll love it.  And wait until you see her."  
  
Scarf knotted and his hat put on, Barbossa rises from his chair and leaves the room, going downstairs to the parlor to await Sophie's appearance.  
  
It's only a few moments before she descends the stairs, holding onto Mattie's arm, a vision in a silver-blue shot silk innocence gown with the length of grey lace Hector once brought home for her on her head, anchored by a circlet of orange blossoms from her own tree.  
  
Barbossa feels his heart start to thump in his chest.  "Oh, Dove!"  he whispers.  
  
"Do you like it?"  she asks, coming closer and turning around.  "Cassie remade one of the dresses you gave me."  
  
"Ye're a beauty, Sophia,"  he answers in wonder.  "Miss Sophia, m' beautiful bride…"  
  
He pulls her into his arms, his lips on hers, oblivious to the twins grinning at each other until Cassie clears her throat.  "I think that comes _after_ the ceremony,"  she snickers.  "Come on, let's go…"  
  
While Cassie leads the way with baby Alex on her hip and her mother's flowers in a covered basket, Sophie follows close behind holding onto both her son and Hector, the latter's arm around her waist and his other hand clasping hers.  They have to pass through town on their way to the beachfront chapel, with a few townswomen stopping to stare, but nothing will make Sophie unhappy on this day, nor does Barbossa pay any mind;  not even when a faint, "It's the pirate's whore;  who does she think she is?" stings his ears.  
  
The walk is a long one, and pregnant Sophie begins to tire before they reach their destination;  not only that, but she catches her breath and hisses at Cassie:  their private signal that the baby is walloping at her bladder.  "Here,"  says Cassie, handing Alex off to Barbossa.  "We'll be back in a moment."  
  
"Are you all right?"  she asks her mother as she helps her to balance and keeps her gown out of the way while she relieves herself.  
  
Sophie frowns.  "Not one of the more pleasant things about carrying a child, I'm afraid:  I'm on the pot seventeen times a day,"  she sighs, taking the linen handkerchief Cassie gives her to dry herself with.  "I'm sorry, Cass;  I'll make you a new one."  
  
"Don't be silly."  Cassie helps her mother to her feet, moving off aways to drop and rearrange her gown.  "Now come on, Papa's probably fretting."  
  
Barbossa takes one look at Sophie once she comes out from behind the trees, then holds his arms out.  "Ye'll not be walkin' th' rest of th' way, sweet,"  he tells.  "Put yer arm 'round me neck an' hold on tight."  
  
Even at her pregnant weight, she feels light as a feather to Hector, whose long years at sea have built him up and made him strong.  "You're warm,"  Sophie murmurs, shifting slightly so she can better rest her head against his shoulder.  
  
"So're you."  
  
Once they come to the little chapel, the twins go in while Barbossa lets Sophie gently down onto a nearby rock so she can rest for a moment before following them.  "Are ye happy, Dove?"  he asks her.  
  
Sophie beams at him.  "So happy, Hector…"  
  
The priest comes out and stands there grinning as he watches them kiss;  finally clears his throat to break them apart.  "I'm ready to begin any time you are."  
  
Barbossa has a fleeting instant of nervousness as he realizes what he's really and truly about to do, but one look at the joy on Sophie's face makes the nerves vanish.  _Ye been me angel from th' time ye were but a girl_ ,  he thinks,  _an' thought of ye's carried me through ev'ry bit of m' travels, be they through heaven or hell.  How shall I not wish t' bind m'self to ye?_  
  
"Hector?"  Sophie asks, patting his cheek.  
  
"I'm ready, darlin'."  
  
All sorts of thoughts come to Barbossa as he stands with Sophie in front of the priest:  how pretty his flowers look in her hands, a memory of the way she once danced before him clad only in the long dove-grey veil she wears now, the feel of her unbound hair as he drew his fingers through it on their very first night together.  He remembers the many times she cried in his arms for being so happy that he'd come home, feeling his unborn children move in her belly, the charm of her giggle when she serves him something special for supper that the lodgers don't get.  
  
"I do,"  he says firmly, thrilled when he hears Sophie answer her own questions the same way.  
  
It will be the single time in Barbossa's life that he'll say the word "love" to Sophie, and only because it's required that he repeat it as part of the ceremony.  It's a word that comes to him with great difficulty and in the barest whisper;  not because he doesn't feel it, but because he _does_ ;  because he finds the emotion so overwhelming and himself, he's afraid, unworthy of it.  But in this moment, as he makes the wedding vows that he never in his wildest imagination thought he'd be called upon to give a woman, he gathers his resolve and manages to speak the word as he promises to love and cherish her.  
  
He expected that Sophie might cry during the service — women do that sort of thing, or so he hears — but she surprises him:  she smiles widely at him, and then laughs, especially when she repeats,  "With my body, I thee worship."  _Over and over_ ,  she mouths with a wink, pulling at Barbossa's hand so it rests on her midsection.  
  
The baby chooses that moment to plant a forceful kick against his father's palm, prompting such a look of astonishment on his face that Cassie laughs.  "He's saying he approves, Papa,"  she says.  
  
"Shall we continue?"  asks the priest, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.    
  
The ring Barbossa puts on Sophie's finger is the one he gave her when he first returned from his fifteen years of travels:  a simple one, of gold set with a fine black pearl.  She has worn the ring on a chain around her neck ever since then, its cool weight between her breasts a constant reminder of the man she's loved all her life, and it will be worn on that chain after this, that it will not be damaged in the course of her everyday work;  but on this day, and for the rest of the week while the inn is closed, it will reside on her hand, reminding both her and Barbossa of their new status the priest announces when he says,  "By the power vested in me by the hand of God and the authority of these islands, I pronounce that they shall be husband and wife together.  You may salute your bride, Captain Barbossa."  He pauses, watching while they kiss more hungrily than is polite, and grins once they reluctantly let go of each other.  "I believe I'm supposed to admonish you to go forward, be fruitful, and multiply, but I see you have no problem with that!"  
  
Giving little Alex over to the parson's wife who has been summoned as one of the two witnesses, Cassie produces a gaily-decorated broom and lays it before her parents, then nods at her brother to give the order.  "Hop to!"  he says, clapping twice.  
  
The couple jump it;  Barbossa, with a resounding -clump!- and Sophie with a dainty step, careful not to jog the child inside her, and Cassie rushes up to them.  "About time,"  she says, adding gently to her mother,  "Mistress Barbossa."  
  
Now Sophie _does_ cry a bit, with her new husband pinching her chin and whispering,  "Not sorry already, are ye, Missus?"  
  
"No,"  sniffles Sophie.  "It's just… I just thought this day would never come."  
  
_Nor I, nor I, but here 'tis_ … "Well, it has, darlin', an' I don't know 'bout you, but I be of a mind t' celebrate.  Shall we go home an' sup on th' cake you an' Cass baked, an' crack open a bottle of wine?"  Barbossa leans down, his lips against Sophie's ear.  "An' after…"  He's grinning.  "Ye can worship m' body all ye want, for I've great plans t' worship yers."  
  
"You hush your mouth, Hector Barbossa!"  
  
"No,"  he teases.  "Now come on… walk as far as ye're able, an' I'll carry ye th' rest of th' way."  
  
Sophie's worn out, both with her pregnancy and the emotion of the day, and they're barely past sight of the chapel before she leans against him.  "I'm sorry, Hector,"  she murmurs.  "I should be stronger than this.  Just let me sit down for a moment…"  
  
"'Tis only th' babe sappin' yer usual strength, Dove, so ne'er you mind.  Sit if it settles ye, but after that, ye'll be ridin' home."  Barbossa purrs at the woman in his arms as he carries her the distance between chapel and inn, stopping only to take a firmer grip at the bottom of the hill.  "There now,"  he says, kissing her cheek when they arrive.  "I do b'lieve 'tis th' custom that I shall carry ye int' our home this very first time."  Cassie unlocks the door and Mattie opens it wide while Barbossa steps through, his bride clutched warm and close against him.  
  
Cassie raises an eyebrow when he doesn't put her down, but elects to carry her mother straight upstairs.  "She's so very tired, Cass,"  he tells her once he comes out again, having seated Sophie in the bedroom's new plush chair.  "Mayhap we should bring th' celebration up t' her."  
  
"That's a capital idea,"  his daughter says.  "Let me put together a tray of tea and cake while you get her settled."  
  
Barbossa's more worried than he's letting on, and his touch is especially gentle as he removes Sophie's veil, unpins her bodice, and loosens her skirts.  "D' ye want t' lie down, sweet?  Shall I undress ye t' yer shift an' put ye under th' covers?"  
  
Nodding, Sophie puts her hand on his cheek, her black pearl wedding ring smooth against his skin.  "I don't know why I'm so knackered."  
  
"Ah, too much walkin', I expect.  I shoulda known, what wi' carryin' th' child an' much as yer back's been hurtin'."  As he speaks, Barbossa, lifts Sophie up in his arms again and lays her down on the bed, carefully removing her clothing down to her chemise, stopping for a moment to rub her arches and ankles after taking off her slippers and stockings.  "I'll tell Cora t' warm up a pan of water'n salt later so's ye can soak yer feet, eh?"  
  
Cassie chooses that moment to enter with the big kitchen tray loaded with tea, cocoa, sangaree, apples and oranges, and slices of wedding cake.  "Am I interrupting something?"  she asks, biting back a grin as she sets it on the table.  
  
Barbossa wiggles Sophie's toes between his fingers one last time, then smooths her chemise down over her body.  "Ye want t' help me get yer Mum sat up a bit an' covered with a shawl an' th' quilt?"  
  
"Oh, don't fuss,"  Sophie whispers, but she's smiling against her new husband's arm as he assists her.  
  
Mattie comes in, and the Family Barbossa has a jolly, if quiet, celebration of Hector and Sophie's marriage.  "Mm, good cake!"  Barbossa says through the crumbs falling into his beard.  "Ye must remember t' make some of it t' put in m' sea basket."  
  
It's a reminder that he cannot stay ashore for much longer, and Sophie begins to tear up.  "Papa!"  Cassie reproves him.  "Not now."  
  
Barbossa knew the instant he said it that it was a mistake, and he embraces Sophie as tightly as he dares.  "I'm sorry, Dove,"  he murmurs.  "I didn't mean t' remind ye…"  He trails off, pressing kisses across her forehead and down her nose until he comes to her lips for a smooch.  "So, will ye forgive this old buzzard for bein' so thoughtless?"  
  
He finds himself with his wife in his arms and his twin children close about him, their hands on his shoulders, for they find the thought of his leaving almost as hard to bear as their mother does.  But presently, they pat his back and leave him with the one he needs most to be with.  "Hector,"  Sophie whispers.  "Husband…"  
  
_Husband_.  The word engenders a feeling deep inside Barbossa that he has long tried to ignore;  because it scares him, because if he didn't allow himself to realize it before, he does now:  that he's sorely needed in the lives of Sophie and his children, and so much of their happiness depends on him.  "Aye,"  he says softly, crossing his arms over Sophie's raised knees,  "an' ye're m' wife, for now an' always.  Ye've always been, even without th' parson's blessin'."  He smiles and gives her a wink.  "So, shall we get t' th' worshipin' part, eh?"  
  
He locks the door against inadvertent intrusion by the twins, then returns to the bed.  "I e'er tell ye how very beautiful ye look when ye're in a gravid way?"  he asks, a warm hand caressing Sophie's pregnant midsection before he touches her breasts.    
  
She manages a soft giggle.  "Well, I remember the way your chin hit the ground and you swore when you saw how big I got with Alexander."  
  
Barbossa cringes;  he remembers that, too.  "Aye, well… mayhap I shouldn't've been quite so blunt..."  
  
"Of course you should;  it's the way you are, and it's why I love you."  
  
There's that word again.  "Do ye, Sophia?  Truly?"  
  
"Ohh, Hector."  Sophie reaches up, her fingers playing in her husband's beard.  "I always have;  don't you know that?"  
  
_Aye, an' knowin' what were in yer heart kept me 'live an' human through all me curs'd years_ ,  he thinks as he studies her.  _An' if I'd known how I'd left ye wi' m' seed a-growin' in yer belly, I'd ha' fought all th' harder t' make m' way home_.  "I know,"  is all he says, his voice low and gentle.  "I know."  
  
Barbossa is silent as he slowly undresses her, save for a hum of appreciation when her chemise comes off;  then he helps her lie comfortably amongst the pillows before he drapes her in the silver-grey mantilla she used for her wedding veil.  Worship her body, he definitely will, a little later or perhaps tomorrow when she's less weary;  but for now, it pleases him simply to gaze upon his new wife, knowing she's all his;  and, equally important, he knows that after all these years, he finally belongs to her.

 

  
  
-oOo-  FIN  -oOo-

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
